


Things We Shared

by PunkRory



Category: FrUK - Fandom, France (hetalia) x England (hetalia), Hetalia - Fandom, PrFr, PruFr, Prussia (hetalia) x france (hetalia), UKFr - Fandom, death mention - Fandom, france (hetalia) x UK (hetalia), major sickness
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, bitter sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 03:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15963488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkRory/pseuds/PunkRory
Summary: Coping with the recent separation between himself and his ex husband, Francis Bonnefoy continues working his job as a teacher when his long time friend Gilbert reveals a life changing event has happened to him.





	Things We Shared

The last punch of winter had finally landed on the small town where Francis lived. The flowers were beginning to fight through the slight chill and come into bloom. The trees slowly had started growing back the leaves they lost and the children in the neighborhood started to make their far and few appearances outdoors playing pirates or spys or whatever else their minds could fabricate around them. Even as the sun warmed the weather, there was still a lingering cold feeling in the Bonnefoy house.   
Despite the time that had passed, everything in the house was still paired off in twos as if nothing had changed. Two mugs sat next to the coffee machine, two towels hung outside the shower, and two closets were in the bedroom, although one laid bare with nothing more than a forgotten tie left behind. The problem with the little things is Francis couldn’t help but look at them when he passed by, but couldn’t force himself to throw them away. It didn’t hurt like it use to, but now and then he would catch himself staring with a solemn expression at the spaces that use to be filled by Arthur.   
For the second time that month, Francis dreamt of him. It wasn’t like a normal dream. It wasn’t weird or abstract. Instead it was a simple, quiet, domestic dream. There was no sound, no speaking. It was just them, blanket wrapped around the two, sitting on the couch in front of the TV watching an old black and white film while Matthew nearly silently played in the next room over. Arthurs head rested calmly on Francis’s chest and had one arm wrapped around Francis, in an almost protect way. Francis could nearly swear he heard the faint beating of Arthurs heart. Then, with no warning, the dream was ripped away, awoken by the blaring ringtone of his phone in the early morning. Eyes still closed, Francis blindly groped around his night stand to answer the call.   
“Hello?” Francis said, voice slightly groggy and soft from waking up.  
“You free tonight? I wanted to hit the bars. We haven’t gone in a while” the familiar voice of Gilbert, Francis’s long time friend answered.   
“It’s tuesday.” Francis said.  
“What about it?” Gilbert asked.  
“It's a school night. No chance. Maybe this weekend, okay?” Francis said.  
“Oh, come on. Just one drink?” Gilbert said.  
“It’s never ‘just one drink’ You’d have saved enough money for that motorcycle if you weren’t always going out for drinks you know. “ Francis said, rolling his eyes and glancing over to his clock.   
It was already 6:50. For a moment, Francis was almost thankful for Gilbert’s early morning call.   
“ That’s fair, but come on Francis, just this once. We haven’t hanged in a long time and I have a lot to tell you. There was this super cute brunette chick I saw last week -- we are talking like a solid 8 out of ten -- and the funniest thing ended up happening when I laid down my most awesome pick up line. You see, she actu--”  
“Alright, alright. You can tell me tonight. But only one drink, I’m serious.” Francis said, slipping on his pants and briefly looking through his shirts to decide what to wear.  
“Scout’s honor.” Gilbert said. Francis gave a small eye roll in an endearing, brotherly sort of way. He loved Gilbert, he did, and honestly he owed Gilbert big time for helping him get his job, but sometimes it was hard to figure out just what was going on in that head.   
“See you tonight.” Francis said, hanging up and finally going to make sure matthew was getting ready for school. The normal high jinks ensued at school. Oliver attempted to impersonate a shark (in hopes of impressing Louis, Francis was sure) by laying in a shallow puddle. Louis was not impressed, although it is possible he didn’t take notice of the event as he was very invested in his new shark book (with pop ups!). Xiao forgot the word for dentist, so he instead said ‘teeth doctor’ which to be fair was pretty close.  
By the time the day was over, Francis had nearly forgotten about his plan with Gilbert. The bar they always meet at was lesser known, at least to the college students, and had been their go to spot since the first time they went (an accident due to a wild birthday story that involved a bottle of glue, two plastic forks, a turtle, and 83 cents in change). It was the place they went for birthdays, the place they went to celebrate, and the place they went when one of them needed to share bad news.

Unfortunately, it was the latter.

Francis glanced to the clock. He was ten minutes early. If had wasn’t ten early, he would have been ten late. It wasn’t worth the gas or the time to stop at home first and drop off his school supplies. It wasn’t unlike Gilbert to be late, and it’s what Francis expected which is what lead to a somewhat shocking occurence of Gilbert being early.   
“Francis!” He called once he got through the door, nodding to the doorman in a familiar manner and passing through without showing his ID.  
“Gilbert, you’re early.” Francis said.  
“Yes! It gets boring around the house. I ran out of things to do, figured I might as well go and head over” Gilbert said. He lifted his hand giving his order to the bartender (two beers, to Francis’s disappointment. He preferred something that had an actual taste and wasn’t just created for the soul purpose of getting drunk). They take a set at their table, which at this point should have a set of red velvet ropes around it with a sign that says “reserved”.  
“So, why’d you want to talk?” Francis asked.   
“Just to see how things were going.” Gilbert said, taking a swig from his bottle.  
“Well. The kids are doing great. Well, Oliver is still playing outdoorsmen at recess which is mildly concerning -- he tries to start a fire by rubbing the sticks together. I don’t have the heart to tell him you need more than just two sticks to actually do that -- and don’t you dare tell him either. If I see him walking down the playground with a pile of tinder I’ll know who to come to.” Francis said, chuckling, but there was certainly some truth to what he was saying.  
“And Louis?” Gilbert asked.  
“Ah, has a new book. He seems to enjoy it. It has pop up pictures which I think he enjoys.” Francis said, taking a sip of his beer, somewhat reluctantly. “But what about you, Gilbert? Things well?”  
“Yes.” Gilbert said. His face smiled brightly but only for a moment before it faltered and turned into a frown. “Actually, no.” In that second, a switch flipped and Francis was sitting up, alert and supporting.  
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Francis asked. Gilbert was silent he just stared down the neck of his bottle, swishing the content from side to side while mulling over what words he would say before finally deciding and setting the bottle down. Best to just do it fast and get it over with.  
“It’s worse. They think it might be terminal.” Gilbert said. The words got caught in his in his throat. Francis sat, completely still.  
“Are...you okay?” Francis asked.  
“Of course not.” Gilbert said, trying to hide the fact his eyes were becoming glossy and brimming with tears threatening to fall. Such a self proclaimed ‘awesome’ guy couldn't be caught crying in a bar, even if it was because there was a chance in the near future he could die.  
“I’m so sorry.” Francis said.   
“Don’t be. You didn’t do it.” Gilbert said.  
“I know, it’s just -- it isn’t fair.” Francis said. Unlike Gilbert, he saw no shame in crying. He’d done it plenty since Arthur left, although mostly within the walls of his own home. It wasn’t a full on sob, just a few tears that could be easily wiped away with the swipe of a hand.  
“I just wanted you to know. I haven’t...told anyone else.” Gilbert said. Again, it was silent for a while.  
“If you need anything just tell me. Anything at all. I’ll be here to help. I mean it.”  
“I don’t need any handouts, Francis.” Gilbert said.  
“It isn’t a handout. You’re my closest friend. You don’t have to take it, but I wanted you to know i’m here. Always.” Francis said. Gilbert took another sip of his beer  
And reached up to brush away a tear from the corner of his eye. Anyone else looking would have thought he was wiping away an eyelash or some dust but the truth was for once he was showing weakness. He was showing he was just a guy with his friend and they were just two men in a bar, drinking beer, while one of them died.

The next day seem to move slowly to Francis. By the time he arrived at school Francis felt he had been on autopilot for hours. Like he wasn’t in control of his movements, but he was still able to experience them all. Like he could see through his eyes and hear with his ears but not form words with his mouth or reach out with his hands.   
It wasn’t enough that he had to continue shifting through his feelings and emotions left in the wake of losing Arthur. Now he had to worry about losing Gilbert too. The world just takes and takes in a never ending hunger but rarely seem to ever give Francis anything in return. The only thing the world ever gave him was a classroom full of brilliant kids. Not everyone would call them brilliant. They weren’t -- not in the traditional sense, but they approached the world in a different way that, for Francis, was interesting and fun and opening to observe. One good thing. One. Francis would hold onto it for dear life. 

“Mr. Bonnefoy! Look! “ Francis was snapped out of his mid-recess daydream (indoors because it was raining that day. Highly fitting to match the general mood) by Oliver shoving a crayon illustrated picture.  
“That’s lovely. It reminds me of Salvador Dali” Francis said. Oliver gave him a quizzical look. “A famous abstract painter?” Francis said. Suddenly light drew to Oliver’s face.  
“Do you think I could be one too?” Oliver asked.  
“I don’t see why you couldn’t” Francis said. His face was unmoving and Oliver took note.  
“What happened?” Oliver asked, looking over Francis’s shoulder to see if maybe he was drawing too. He wasn’t. He was filling out paperwork.  
“Nothing happened, I’m just tired today. I didn’t sleep well.”  
“Why not?” Oliver asked.  
“Grown up stuff.” Francis replied. Oliver’s lip drew out into a soft pout.  
“That’s what all old people say” Oliver said, sitting at the foot of Francis’s desk. “No one ever wants to say when they are sad. They just pretend they aren’t sad but no one is happy all the time.” Oliver said, adding new strokes of color to his picture with some crayons he kept in his back pocket. Francis let out a small chuckle.  
“Very true.” Francis said. “What do you do to feel happy when you’re sad then, Oliver?” Francis asked.  
“Hmmm,” Oliver started, “I draw sometimes, or read picture books, but mainly I talk my brother into letting me do his hair.” Oliver pauses. “I like to put it into little braids and then unbraid it. Or sometimes I like to see how many ponytails I can put it into.” Francis can’t help but laugh some. “Sometimes though, I like to make my brother a surprise. It makes me happy to see him happy.”  
“Oh? What kind of surprise?” Francis can’t help but picture that most of these ‘surprises’ are food related and end with the kitchen in flames.  
“Oh, just a picture or maybe some cookies. Well, the cookies don’t always end up good but he pretends to like them anyway…” Oliver said. “Grown ups are good at pretending.” Then the bell rang and recess was over and Oliver had a new picture and Francis had a new idea.

 

“Where are you taking me?” Gilbert said, blindfolded and sitting in the back of Francis’s car. Surprisingly it wasn’t the first time he had found himself in this position.   
“It’s a surprise. Just be patient” Francis said.  
“You’re being weird.” Gilbert said.  
“I’m being perfectly normal. You’re the weird one.” Francis said.  
“Lies. I’m awesome, as always.” Gilbert said. Francis turned into his driveway and parked the car, opening Gilbert’s door.  
“Alright, you can get out and take off the blind folder.” Francis said. Slowly, Gilbert got out of the car, using the door to lean against so he wouldn’t lose his footing before finally reaching up and untying the black silky ribbon from around his eyes. (He wondered why Francis owned such a ribbon specifically for blindfolding but chose not to ask.)  
Sitting in the driveway was a brand new, shiny, black motorcycle with a crimson red ribbon carefully tied around the handlebar.  
“No, no way you didn’t really do this” Gilbert said walking up to it and gently placing a hand on it, feeling the slick finish of the paint job. “Is this for me?” Gilbert asked.  
“Yes. It’s for you. I wanted to do something nice and I know in the passed I missed a birthday at some point and-- “  
“This is way too awesome. How much did you spend on this? There is no way I can accept it. It is way too nice Francis this is way too much--”   
“It’s a gift. I owe you for getting me that job at the school. It's one of the only truly good things I have in my life.” Francis said, placing his hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “I mean it. Next to you, the most important thing in my life are those kids. I owe you for giving me that, and there is no price on it to match so I thought this would be a good place to start…” Francis said.   
“Thanks, man.” Gilbert said, bringing Francis into a hug. “Thank you so much.” Gilbert held onto Francis tightly, placing his forehead on Francis’s shoulder and not-so-discreetly wiping a tear from his eye. He always tried to be strong, but in front of Francis he didn’t have to be. Maybe they were both in the middle of losing things, maybe they were both trying hard to hold on to things that were already gone, and maybe they both had challenges to face, but at the very least they had each other there so they didn’t have to shoulder it all on their own. That’s what was important.


End file.
